Bone Chase Read online

  Ethan pressed play again.

  “—protect your mother. That is the utmost. There’s no way for the Six-Fingered Man to know I sent you the box unless you’ve ignored the admonitions, which I’m sure you haven’t. Even so, I don’t want you staying around the house for too long. That will only put her in danger. You’ll find a debit card in the bag with your name on it. I opened an account. I know they laid you off at the high school, Ethan. A letter came to this address from the board of education. I guess they took the address from your application and sent it here. I didn’t tell your mother, though you probably should. It’s never a good thing to lie to your mother. Trust me on that. There’s nearly ten thousand dollars in that account. I won it in Vegas a few years ago and decided to store it away for a rainy day. I see storm clouds in the distance, so that day is coming soon.

  “Now for advice. I’m not going to give you any. Like I said, you think differently. Use that. Trust your instincts. Solve this equation and figure out what it all means. And please be careful. One last thing. If you’re ever in trouble, seek out Nathan White. He lives in Memphis. He’s a stand-up guy and has more resources than any single man should. Tell Nate that I sent you because I’m dead and you’re in trouble. That should be enough. Don’t tell him about the Six-Fingered Man, though.

  “I love you, son. I love you. I so cherish that fishing trip we went on on the Columbia. Sometimes I think I love you best.” He regarded the camera with so much love that Ethan couldn’t help himself as a sob escaped.

  “I love you, too, Dad,” he said softly to the screen.

  Then his father cracked a smile. “Enough of this mushy stuff. You’ll be here anytime now, and I have to hide this somewhere only you will find it.” Then he winked at the camera, moved forward, pressed something, and the video went black.

  Ethan sat and stared at the screen through tear-prismed eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but it was long enough that the screensaver came on. It was an image of a Sumerian statue of a six-fingered giant.

  LOCATION: Evidence of a giant was found in Crittenden, Arizona, uncovered while excavating a building site in 1891. They found an immense stone coffin filled with the dust of the remains of whoever had been inside. The size of the coffin indicated that the occupant had to have been twelve feet tall. A carving on the granite case indicated that he had six toes. The stone coffin has since gone missing.

  Who do you think made them disappear? The COD or perhaps the giants? —Paul

  A lot of these have gone missing —Matt

  THREE

  Ethan had to begin somewhere, so he selected the file labeled Notes for Ethan. It contained more than a hundred pages of random thoughts and information, including account data for the debit card and contact information for Nathan White. He scrolled through the pages and stopped at a section marked Which Bible to Use. He wasn’t aware there were any differences, but then there would be, wouldn’t there?

  For a long time the King James Version was the standard, but that specific edition has been heavily edited. Realize that the Christian versions of the Old Testament are actually translations and edits of the Hebrew Bible and associated apocryphal texts. The most trusted version is the Septuagint, which is the name given to the first translation of the Hebrew Bible into Greek. Written around 300 BCE by seventy scholars (from which its name was derived), the Septuagint was created because many Jews were growing up in other cultures, speaking other languages, and they needed access to a single, true holy book. Any edition that references this as the source document can be trusted. Do not trust those translated from the Latin Vulgate or Masoretic text because these have been changed and edited by them.

  There are two English-language versions available online. They are the New English Translation (NET) and the Holman Christian Standard Version. What makes these worthwhile is that they provide footnotes and in-text citations that point out differences and often indicate why a certain translation was chosen over another.

  Why this is important is because they have spent thousands of years trying to hide and have been involved in the various churches from the very beginning. Yet if you look hard enough, you will see that the clues are there. In fact, they seem to be everywhere.

  Ethan was impressed. His father came off as a biblical scholar. Ethan wondered how long his father had been working on the document. It could have been years. It could have been a decade. Then again, it might also have been just a few months. In fact, it suddenly occurred to him that it had been almost exactly nine months. If Matt had it before his dad, then he must have passed it on right before he died.

  Which reminded him…

  Ethan went to his father’s desk and searched for an address book. He found one in the top center drawer. It had a red cover, was well-worn, and looked as if it was decades old. Ethan flipped through it, searching for the name Matt or Matthew amid the crab-handed writing. There were so many names. Even more had been crossed out. Eventually he found it, but it took two attempts. Matthew Fryer, Unit 24, West Mobile Home Park, Phoenix, Arizona. No phone number. And the address was crossed out with a fine straight line, as though his father had used a ruler.

  Ethan shoved the address book into the side of the computer bag. He had a plan now. He’d go to Matt’s place first and see if Matt had left anything behind. What he’d do then, he couldn’t be sure.

  Then he had a thought that chilled him.

  What if Matt’s place was under surveillance?

  Wait… what if his parents’ house was being watched? Jesus.

  He was only a math teacher.

  Who was he kidding, thinking he could kill the Six-Fingered Man, much less track down the truth of giants?

  His cell phone rang, making him jump.

  He stared at the screen, not recognizing the number.

  He answered slowly.

  “Ethan? Is that you?” came a voice he hadn’t heard in six years.

  His breath left him, and his heart skipped a beat.

  “Shanny? I—I never thought I’d hear from you again.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, Ethan. I went off to war, not another planet.” A pause, then: “I heard about your dad. I’m so sorry, Ethan.”

  Shannon Witherspoon had been his girlfriend the last three years of college. She’d gone using an ROTC scholarship, but other than early morning training and the occasional other ROTC commitments, he hadn’t really noticed. That was until she’d graduated and went off as a newly commissioned second lieutenant. They’d had quite the row, and he remembered saying things he never should have said. Now, hearing her voice brought back all the feelings he thought he’d buried.

  “Shanny, I—”

  “You don’t have to say it, Ethan. I hold equal blame. I just wanted to call and let you know how sorry I am. Your dad was one of the good ones.”

  One of the good ones. Yes, he was.

  “Can we—can we get coffee sometime?” Then he scoffed. “I don’t even know where you are. Iraq? Afghanistan? Mars?”

  She laughed hollowly. “I’m back at the university. Getting a master’s so I can be employable in the civilian world. Not too many folks out there need a captain who’s an expert in strategic communication equipment.”

  “You’re here? In Colorado?”

  They made arrangements to meet the next day at the student union, which worked out perfectly. Ethan had an idea, and he needed the university to try it out.

  * * *

  The next day found him sitting at a computer terminal on the second floor of Norlin Commons, staring at the empty search-engine bar an hour before they were supposed to meet. The circulation desk was behind him, and behind that was the entrance to the West Quad. He’d chosen Norlin Commons because it was the first to open of any of the University of Colorado library locations. He’d hoped that his student log-in was still active. He’d never turned it off. Luckily, it was, so he was absolutely logged in as Ethan McCloud, and everyone would know it.

  He glanced a
t the corner of the room and saw the CCTV camera, then turned to the other corner and saw where one was affixed there, as well. They could be watching him this very moment and he’d never know.

  He’d left the house at five that morning to miss the morning traffic and ensure he was at the library when it opened. His mother had been awake and in the kitchen.

  “Why are you up so early?” she’d asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Do you want some coffee?” she’d asked.

  “No. I might get some. I’m going for a drive.”

  She’d appraised him and seemed about to say something but decided against it. “Suit yourself. You going to be back in time for breakfast?”

  He stared long and lovingly at her. “I don’t think so, Mom.”

  She’d looked at him as if she’d known he was leaving. “Suit yourself,” she said again. “I love you, dear.”

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  All the way to Boulder he’d wondered how she’d known he was leaving and how she’d known it was important not to stop him. Had his father told her the secret? Or was it merely a mother’s intuition? Either way, he was glad to have been able to tell her he loved her rather than slither off like a snake in the night.

  Now he was either going to bring the entire world down upon his head, or absolutely nothing would happen. Part of him, the mathematical part that believed in odds and metrics, wondered if they all weren’t being duped. What if his father had been the victim of suggestion with his dreams of the Six-Fingered Man? What if it had been a simple, badly timed aneurysm? What if Matt had been the victim of a simple, non-conspiracy-related, ill-timed hit-and-run?

  This can’t be real, right?

  Ethan was about to find out if it was or wasn’t. He had three search screens opened and shrunk them until they were side by side.

  In the first, he typed the word giant.

  In the second, he typed, Six-Fingered Man.

  And in the third, he typed, Council of David.

  He counted to ten, pressed enter on each of the search bars, then shut off the monitor but left the computer running. He put a sticky on the monitor that read OUT OF ORDER. Without looking up, he stood, grabbed his backpack with the laptop inside, then strode causally toward the stacks, where he found a place to wait and watch. He reached out and grabbed a book. It was On the Origin of Species by Charles Darwin. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

  Several minutes ticked by. Twice student-aged young men approached the computer, only to turn away after reading the note. He wondered how the Six-Fingered Man would do it. He couldn’t be everywhere at once. He’d probably use local police forces to detain him.

  Ethan was about to give up when, sure enough, a pair of campus police entered using the West Quad entrance. One of them stopped at the circulation desk and showed the clerk a picture. The other went directly to the computer.

  Ethan checked his watch. Seven minutes. Holy shit!

  The campus security guard stood in front of the computer, then removed the sticky note. He reached down to where Ethan knew the on-off switch to be for the monitor, and turned it back on.

  Ethan glanced at the nearest security camera. He was out of range where he was sitting. He pulled a Colorado Buffs baseball hat out of his pack as well as a pair of clear reading glasses. He put the cap on his head and the glasses on his face. He felt immediately uneasy and off-balance. They’d been his father’s reading glasses and made the universe fuzzy. There was no way he’d be able to wear them and walk. Still, to help defeat any biometrics, he had to change the cut of his face, so he slid them halfway down his nose and left them there. Then he lowered his head and left the stacks. Instead of taking a right, which would take him back to where the police were, he took a left to the stairs and elevator bank.

  He opened the heavy door to the stairs, entered the stairwell, then ran up the steps as fast as he could. He exited onto the third-floor stacks, walked through them to the matching set of stairs on the other side of the building, then descended. When he exited onto the first floor again, he saw one of the policemen waiting for the elevator while the other entered the other set of stairs.

  He strode by the circulation desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the clerk turn and give him a long look. Ethan whispered beneath his breath, Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.

  “Hey, you’re that guy!”

  Damn it!

  He kept his pace steady, went through the scanners, and the alarm went off. He looked down and saw he was still carrying On the Origin of Species. The clerk came running, and Ethan hurled the book at the guy’s chest, then turned and strode out the door, merging with a group of girls. They didn’t seem to notice him as they went down the stairs to the quad. They veered right to the humanities and he veered left to the Ekeley Sciences building. He’d have preferred to go to the mathematics building, but that was in the opposite direction. Ekeley was the next best choice. He was almost there when he heard a shout from behind.

  Steady… steady, he told himself.

  Then he was inside and running. He hit the first set of stairs and went to the second floor. He checked each of the doors and found them locked. Where the hell were the kids? Then he remembered. It was the end of May. Finals had just happened and the summer session hadn’t started yet, which was why campus was so decidedly not crowded.

  He dared to glance behind him, worried that at any second the police would come up the stairs. He checked three more doors, rattling the handles of each one, but they were all locked.

  One of the doors he’d just tried flung open and a head poked out.

  “Ethan? Is that you?”

  He turned toward the voice. She was his height with an athletic build. She wore her dark brown hair in a ponytail. Narrow glasses did little to conceal her blue eyes. They were supposed to have met in the student union.

  His heart stopped. “Shanny, I—” Somehow he’d guided himself to the science building where Shanny was a graduate student. The door to the stairs at the end of the hall was opening. He grabbed her by her shoulders and shoved her into the room, then closed the door gently behind him and locked it.

  “What the hell, Ethan?” She stood stock-still, her features locked in anger. “What’s with being rough?”

  “Shanny, get down. I’ll explain later.”

  “Don’t Shanny me. What the hell?”

  He got down on his knees, aware that any passerby could see into the room through the small square window in the door, see her staring in anger at him, and know he was there.

  “I swear I’ll tell you, but you have got to get over here and be quiet. If they find me…”

  “What do you mean if they find you? Who’s chasing you?” She crossed her arms. “Ethan McCloud, what have you done?”

  The sound of footsteps grew loud outside and someone tapped on the window.

  “Ma’am. Open the door, please.”

  “Sure.” She opened it a crack and in a sweet voice asked, “What can I do for you, Officer?”

  “We’re looking for a known felon. He was seen entering this building.”

  “Oh dear. Known felon. I haven’t seen any of the sort. Is he dangerous?”

  “How’d you know it was a he, ma’am? Are you alone in there?”

  Ethan heard the boots shift on the floor outside as if the man were about to push Shanny aside and burst into the room.

  But Shanny set the guy straight. “I don’t think you’d be chasing a girl. What I meant was, I don’t think a girl would be a known felon. Then again, I bet she could be. Women can be as mean and nasty as men. Just look at Lizzie Borden, for instance. Can you believe how many times she—”

  “Ma’am, I have to keep searching. If you see a stranger let us know. He’s definitely dangerous. He may be armed.”

  She nodded and watched the officer as he hurried down the remainder of the hall. Then she closed and locked the door.

  “Known felon.” She snorted. “Dange
rous.” She snorted again. “Armed. What kind of trouble have you gotten into now?”

  Ethan stood shakily to his feet. He was experiencing the aftereffects of his adrenaline rush. “I can’t tell you.”

  “Then let me get the nice officer.” She made to open the door.

  “Shanny, seriously. This is deadly.”

  “Ooooh.” She mock shivered. “Deadly,” she teased the word until it dripped.

  “Please,” he begged. “Not here. Not now. I didn’t know how quickly this was going to happen. Part of me thought it was a joke. But it took them seven minutes. Seven.” He wiped his head and closed his eyes. “I don’t think I’m up for this.”

  “Who is it, Ethan? Who’s after you?”

  “You’d never believe me if I could even tell you.” Seeing her about to respond, he cut her off. “And I can’t. I’ve already put you in danger because I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “You’ve got to give me something,” she said impatiently. “You have to make me believe that you aren’t just crazy.”

  He stared at the ground. He did need her help. And if she was the same person she was back in college, which he had no doubt that she was, then she was incredibly competent. In a moment of selfishness, he decided to tell her everything.

  “All I can say now is that there is an organization called the Council of David and a six-fingered man and that one if not both of them killed my father.”

  She stared at him long and hard, then nodded, as if to herself. “Okay. I’m going to get you out of here, but then you’re going to have to explain everything. Got it?”

  Against his better judgment he nodded.

  FACT: “Preeminent among the extraordinary articles ever held by a railway company is the fossilized Irish giant, which is at this moment lying at the London and North-Western Railway Company’s Broad Street goods depôt, and a photograph of which is reproduced here. This monstrous figure is reputed to have been dug up by a Mr. Dyer whilst prospecting for iron ore in Co. Antrim. The principal measurements are: Entire length, 12ft. 2in.; girth of chest, 6ft. 6½in.; and length of arms, 4ft. 6in. There are six toes on the right foot. The gross weight is 2 tons 15 cwt; so that it took half-a-dozen men and a powerful crane to place this article of lost property in position for THE STRAND MAGAZINE artist.”